


Bite

by SSO-Jack-Wolfwatcher (UglyJackal)



Category: Star Stable
Genre: Werewolf!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12482952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyJackal/pseuds/SSO-Jack-Wolfwatcher
Summary: "As Jack yelled and tried to tug his leg out of the wolf’s jaw, the more the beast pulled back in a sickening game of tug-o-war. It took all of Jack’s strength to finally tumble back into his bedroom with a yelp. He looked back and saw the wolf loping back into the forest, grey fur shining blue in the moonlight."





	Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Jack is a canon werewolf now

There was a chill in the air on the night that it all happened. It was dark and cold, just shy of a rainstorm, with wind battering at the branches of the dead trees, and howls from amongst the forest close by. Jack was fifteen at this point in time and he was in his room, crying.

‘Why can’t she just accept it?’ he muttered to himself, ‘why can’t they both accept it?’ He was in such a state because his parents, in the room across from him, didn’t call him by the right name, still thought he was their “precious little baby girl”. But he wasn’t. And he didn’t think he ever had been.

He had been crying since midnight and it was two in the morning now. He wiped his itchy eyes on the back of his hand, and rested his head against the wall at the side of his bed. He saw that his window was open and shuffled over to shut it.

And then he looked out at the black forest in front of his room. He often thought there were monsters roaming in its depths, amongst its branches and brambles. He liked to take short walks under the overhang of the leaves when they were in full bloom, but in the winter it was a little bit more intimidating. Sharp, probing fingers carved from wood reaching out towards him, grabbing at his shoulders and ripping his hair, trying to take him further into the depths of their world.

His parents didn’t like him going into the forest; they were worried that the wolves would get him. They didn’t have good relations with the wolves, not after the incident that happened before Jack was born. He had heard the stories, seen the guns that his father kept locked away in the cupboard under the stairs.

Frederick Wolfwatcher was a prolific hunter. He made a living from the animals that he shot down, selling them for decoration and meat. His name was known all across the land and he received many a request for numbers of deer or foxes or even raccoons for the folk that couldn’t quite afford the price of a larger animal. But his most popular request was wolves from the forest that he and his wife, Rosemary, lived next to. Having the head of such a noble animal above one’s mantelpiece was a sign of great wealth and power, whether the owner of the house had felled the animal or not.

And one night, fifteen years ago, Frederick had received such a request and was prowling the woods looking for his quarry. There was a rustle in the bushes behind him and he swung around with his gun raised, eyes peeled for movement. A low growl rumbled through the undergrowth towards the hunter’s feet and two glowing yellow eyes stared out at him. He took a few steps back, his gun raised and pointing in front of him. There was crushing silence for all of about six seconds, until a wolf - a werewolf, he found later - leapt out of the undergrowth with an echoing roar. Limbs grossly mixed between man and wolf reached towards him as the crooked figure flew towards him through the air. And then there was the crack of a gunshot and a bullet crashed into the wolf’s chest and launched itself out of its back just above the shoulder blade. The wolf fell to the ground, blood seeping out its chest and back, pathetic whimpering coming from its throat. Frederick stood over the broken beast, breathing hard. ‘That’s why no one fucks around with me,’ he spat at the wolf, whose life was slowly trickling out of it like the blood from the bullet holes.

Since that day, there had seemed to be a curse following the hunter; werewolves had scratched at his door, marking it with the three claw lines that warded away visitors. The symbol that anyone who knew anything recognised as the werewolf’s curse, that the inhabitants of the house had greatly offended a pack of wolves. Other small things had happened, such as a missing cat, a few flowers soiled, small inconveniences until that night, when Jack was looking out of his window.

He sighed and leant half way out of the window, breathing in the cool air as it nipped against his skin. And then he hoisted himself up onto the window shelf and put his leg out of the window to support him as he was about to drop down onto the ground below. Once his foot connected with the grass… that wasn’t grass… that was fur.

'Shit!’ he cried, but before he could even think about dragging his leg back into the house, the wolf below him let out a snarl and whipped its head up to grab his leg in its jaws. Blood spurted out from his calf, where the teeth dug into his skin and muscle. As Jack yelled and tried to tug his leg out of the wolf’s jaw, the more the beast pulled back in a sickening game of tug-o-war. It took all of Jack’s strength to finally tumble back into his bedroom with a yelp. He looked back and saw the wolf loping back into the forest, grey fur shining blue in the moonlight.

Tears in his eyes, he staggered into his parent’s bedroom. 'Mum! Dad!’ he yelled.

His parents jerked awake and his mother switched on the light. His father looked at his son and his brows furrowed. 'You’re bleeding all over my carpet,’ he grunted, rubbing his eyes of sleep.

His mother got out of bed and went over to sit Jack down on the chair in the corner of the room. She knelt down to look at the wound and gasped. 'Fred,’ she said, gravely, 'look.’

His father peered over and his face turned sour. 'She’s infected,’ he spat, 'by those dirty, mangy beasts.’ He clenched his fist. 'Fucking mongrels.’

'How do you know?’ Jack said.

But his father wasn’t listening; he was muttering to himself about werewolves and how they were a taint of the earth, and how they had dared to harm his daughter.

His mother sighed. 'You can tell by the green colouring around the bite, on your skin, see?’ she said, pointing to the discoloured skin.

'Do we go to a doctor? The hospital? So it doesn’t get infected?’

'No, the wound is already infected; I’ll clean it as best I can and dress it,’ his mother replied, 'then you’ll go back to bed and keep that window shut.’

And that’s exactly what she did. The wound sealed and scarred over in a matter of weeks and it thankfully didn’t hinder Jack’s walking. He was terrified about what would happen on his first full moon and what his parents would do with him.

* * *

'But I won’t tell you about that just yet,’ a much older Jack said to his fiancé, 'reliving that night is scary… but I don’t quite regret it.’

'No?’ Ydris questioned, tilting his head.

'Nah, it’s just a part of who I am now,’ he said, 'and why not have another reason for my parents to look at me with disdain,’ he added with a dry chuckle.

The wizard smiled and kissed his fiancé on the forehead. 'Well, I wouldn’t have you any other way.’


End file.
